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creepy bus man

May 27th, 2008 · 99 Comments · Uncategorized

So for whatever reason, I decided I was going to go home for Memorial Day weekend so that I could take part in drugs, booze, and other shenanigans, specifically sleeping and an overconsumption of steak. I know. I am truly risqué.

And for whatever reason, it takes the Greyhound about seven hours to travel what is normally a four hour ride. Seven hours. Usually, I don’t mind so much, because I can read, zone out, and sleep, which are three things I find really comforting and therefore like to do quite a bit. HOWEVER NONETHELESS, it is hard to do these things when one is CONSTANTLY being HARASSED by a CREEPY BUS MAN.

I decided that I was not going to sit in the back of the bus again, because last time, I had the pleasure of sitting by myself but I was being harassed by the stench of year old piss and shit chunks, which was surprisingly unpleasant.  Surprise, surprise. So I decided to sit in the middle of the bus. Rosa Parks didn’t do her thing for nothin. (I think here, I should use the word ‘thang’ but I feel really awkward about that. Bet.) So I’m all excited because everyone else around me is sitting by themselves and I figure that means I’ll get to sit by myself and stretch my legs against the other seat while I’m reading/zoning out/sleeping. HOWEVER NONETHELESS, I didn’t really get to do that.

“Is this goin to Pittsburgh?”

Why yes sir. Wouldn’t you know that before getting on the bus, douche wipe?

“Oh hey. Mm, you so pretty. Do you mind?”

Why yes I do. “Er, no. Go ahead.”

And so this man, this creepy man who looks like he’s probably going to molest me if he gets the chance, sits next to me with a styrofoam box  of fried chicken and hot sauce. Whatever, that’s fine. I’m not infringing on anyone’s right to eat. And I mean, I’ve experienced fried chicken because I’ve gone to KFC, and besides I’m black. (I actually am black, and not racist.) So this man starts mock apologizing for devouring chicken in my face, which is pointless because I KNOW what fried chicken smells like, and it doesn’t smell like year old piss and shit chunks, and because I KNOW he wasn’t going to stop eating it if I would have said “You know, I’m allergic to the scent of fried chicken. Close your shit up, will you?”

After he was done, he started talking to me again. Because me reading/zoning out wasn’t enough of a hint for him to go away.  “You’re so pretty. Are you married?” No. “How old are you?” 20. “Why aren’t you married?” I’m 20. “But you’re so fine.” Hey, thanks. “People get married at 20 all the time. You’re too pretty not to be married.” Um. “What are you reading? Sometin Happened?” No, Something Happened. Actually, I didn’t say that. I just kept reading. “Are you cold?” Well, I do have this sweater on. I didn’t say that either. I just nodded.

Finally, I got off the bus at the rest stop and called my mom and told her about the creepfest. “Don’t let him follow you! Don’t go to sleep. Keep one eye open.” Ok, she didn’t say that. She did tell me that I was giving him too much information and I should not give him so much information and that I should be very careful. But I think he heard me talking shit about him to my mother and when we got off the bus, he promptly moved to another seat. Either that or we left him at the rest stop.

But then the bus driver started winking at me. Lord.

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